


Flashes

by cROAissant



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Drabbles, Flash Fic, Gen, flash fic and drabble collection, prompt fics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-01-21 19:34:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12464433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cROAissant/pseuds/cROAissant
Summary: A collection of drabbles and flash fics inspired by prompts. Of family, friends, and love.





	1. Colors

Contrary to what humans believe, dogs didn’t just see in shades of gray. They also saw yellows and blues – some shades of brown too. Take it from Makkachin. Hers was a world of blues and browns.

Vitya adopted her as a puppy from the shelter. She was a scrawny runt whose brothers and sisters kept cheating out of mealtimes. Vitya walked in just as she was set into her cage with her favorite chew toy. The squeaky yellow fruit was the only thing she didn’t have to share with the other puppies. It took approximately five seconds of eye contact for them to make a connection. It took another two weeks for the newly named Makkachin to find her forever home with Vitya.

Vitya had a giant room, which she later learned was called an apartment, on the topmost floor of a dull-looking building. It had nice people, nice animals, and a decent yard, but nearly everything was a somber gray. In fact, there was very little color anywhere in St. Petersburg – just an expanse of white, dark blues, and grays.

Occasional bursts of bright hues aside – Angry Yuri’s hair yellow and Vitya’s many medals gold – there were only two things that really caught her attention. The first was her own fur. It was a rare kind of brown. Everything else that should have been the same color tended to be so dark that it was more gray than anything else. Her fur was a homey brown – like chocolate, Vitya would say. Maybe that was what made Makkachin so special to Vitya, she stood out like her human’s eyes did.

The second were Vitya’s blue eyes. They were different from the other blues and grays common in St. Petersburg. They twinkled like stars when he laughed, something Makkachin made sure he did often. They were beautiful. But as time went by, they dulled like the colors that surrounded him. And it wasn’t just his eyes, Vitya’s whole being was a sad gray.

He smiled and laughed, but not like he used to. The gold medals he brought home from his long trips to who-knows-where stayed around for shorter periods of time. They were once displayed for weeks on end to show is latest conquest. Now he takes them out of his bag and stows them away in a room that Vitya never cared to go inside of on any other day.

He didn’t bring new friends home like Galina’s human did. While he spent a lot of time on his phone, the look on his face told that he rarely enjoyed the calls. His time at the rink stretched from dawn to dusk, sometimes later. Even with Papa Yakov, Angry Yuri, Strong Mila, and Dramatic Georgi there, he never came home happy. Vitya told him time and again that Makkachin was the only one he needed to be happy.

Makkachin knew he was lying. Vitya was far from happy.

That all changed several years later, when the sparkle in Vitya’s eyes returned after far too long.

He swung himself into their apartment after a surprisingly short time away. He sang and danced across rooms with Makkachin in his arms. He told her of a wonderful man he met while he was away. How he came out of nowhere and brought colors back into in his life in a single night. He had the most beautiful brown eyes too.

It was all very dramatic. So very Vitya.

Despite the brief period of wariness that followed his return, Makkachin could see a difference in his human. He was feeling again, feeling so many things he hadn’t in so long. They weren’t all wonderful. Many of the things he told Makkachin at night were laced with sadness and heartbreak, but he also spoke of hope. Of wondering whether he had the courage to find that amazing person who gave him a night he would never forget.

One day, Swiss Meadow Chris sent Vitya a message. Half the world seemed to have sent Vitya messages that morning, but it was Chris’ that Vitya actually cared to read.

They were cuddled up together on the couch when Victor froze. He made Makkachin worry for all of ten seconds before the sparkle came back. He didn’t know what exactly the attached video contained, only that it was about skating.

It must have been enough for Victor to finally act on his impulses because in almost no time at all, they left the sullen colors of St. Petersburg for a place brighter than anything Makkachin could have dreamed of. Vitya called it Hasetsu, Japan. Makkachin called it paradise.

There were bright colors everywhere he looked. Even with the snow falling, the little coastal town looked far happier than Russia had been. On top of it all, there was so much brown that Makkachin felt more at home than she ever did in the dark apartment. Everything was so warm, so beautiful.

There, he met Yuu-chan bundled up in a light brown coat.

He’d heard a lot about Yuu-chan from Vitya, but it was different from seeing him face to face. He was soft and sweet, and smelled of ice and pork. He knew just where to rub to make her feel like jello.

He was also in love with her Vitya.

She learned this from the spirit of Yuu-chan’s old friend Vicchan, whose name was an adorable diminutive of her Vitya’s. Yuu-chan spent about half of his life watching Vitya dance on ice and had more posters and memorabilia than he knew what to do with. Vitya was Yuu-chan’s world, his goal as a skater. It warmed her heart that this wonderful human already held so much love for his friend.

But the same time, Yuu-chan was sad. Not Vitya sad, but his own special kind of Yuu-chan sad. At first, Makkachin assumed he was missing his Vicchan. Few humans could see spirits that met St. Bernard, and the squishy human sat at the shrine that displayed a picture of his departed puppy for a few moments everyday since their arrival. So Makkachin did what she thought would be best and cuddled up with him at night to ease his restlessness.

(She also did it partly to encourage Vitya to come and comfort the love of his life. He’d lost a bit of confidence in himself after Yuu-chan shut him out that first night.)

Makkachin learned that Yuu-chan’s sadness couldn’t be overcome with cuddles alone. Like Vitya, he needed a little more color in his life. Thankfully, as winter melted into spring, there was more than enough color in Hasetsu for both of them.

It started slow, with Vitya acting as Yuu-chan’s coach like Papa Yakov had. Only with less yelling and much more physical contact. Eventually, they started talking. Then they spent time together away from the ice. Away from Forever Young Minako’s studio. Sometimes, even away from Makkachin. Each time, they walked a little closer, held hands a little longer, and smiled so much more.

Several months after arriving in Hasetsu, Vitya and Yuu-chan returned from a far-off country with a gray – they said it was silver – medal and matching gold rings. After long discussions with Papa Yakov, Mama and Papa Katsuki, and several harried people in stuffy clothing, preparations were being made for them to return to St. Petersburg – her, Vitya, and Yuu-chan.

This time, Makkachin wasn’t worried about returning to the dull whites, dark blues, and grays of Russia. With Yuu-chan, Vitya, Makkachin, and all the presents Yuu-chan’s family and friends insisted on taking with them, none of their lives would be devoid of color anymore.


	2. Heaven

When Vicchan went to sleep for the last time, a St. Bernard greeted him at the pearly gates of Puppy Heaven. He more than earned his right to play in Good Dog Fields forever, the gatekeeper told him, he was the best of good dogs. But Vicchan didn’t want to go just yet, he hadn’t had the chance to say goodbye to Yuu-chan.

Yuu-chan was his shy, sweet human for a little over ten years. He smelled like katsudon and ice, and he was the best human in the world. He cried a lot and needed cuddles and kisses to make him feel better. Vicchan was more than happy to supply him with all the love he needed. He also loved dancing; he was so good that he danced both on land and the ice. He loved it when Yuu-chan took him to the studio and rink to let him watch. When he wasn’t thinking so much, Yuu-chan was the most beautiful thing in the world.

Sadly, Yuu-chan rarely ever thought he was beautiful. Instead, he focused all his admiration on Madonna-chan and Victor-sama. Madonna-chan was his boy’s puppy crush, she encouraged Yuu-chan through tough moves and defended him from bullies. She was also a beautiful skater – not as wonderful as Yuu-chan, but amazing nonetheless.

They danced side by side and she showered him with praises whenever he did something more advanced than was expected of him. She also spent their breaks with him together with the huffy boy that tended to be mean to Yuu-chan once in a while. Madonna-chan had been the one to introduce Victor-sama to Yuu-chan, and changed his life forever.

If Yuu-chan was to be believed, Victor-sama was a god among men in the sport he loved so much. He broke world records and was the first person (one of only a handful) to perform a quadruple flip in an international competition. Vicchan didn’t understand any part of that sentence, but the sheer wonder in Yuu-chan’s voice every time he spoke of him must have meant they were spectacular feats.

Victor-sama was clearly the love of Yuu-chan’s life. He may have been too young to realize it, but his boy’s feelings for the skater were far stronger than anything he felt for his family or Madonna-chan. If anything, Vicchan was proof of that.

Mama and Papa Katsuki adopted him because Yuu-chan wanted a puppy like Victor-sama’s Makkachin. Yuuri took one look at his curly fur and wagging tail before bursting into tears and declaring his name be Victor. Mari-neechan eventually nicknamed him Vicchan saying he was “too small and cute” to have a name as serious as Victor. Mari-neechan was nice, but she treated both him and Yuu-chan like babies far too often.

Vicchan watched many skating competitions with Victor-sama in them. Sometimes, he could understand the excited voices coming from the TV. Other times, they spoke in weird languages with much gruffer voices and strange sounds. Whenever they watched these, Yuu-chan’s eyes would roam frantically across the screen trying to read the words. Subtitles, he called them. In every one, Yuu-chan would gasp in absolute wonder every time the older skater flew off the ice. He cheered with the crowd and cried whenever they announced a new “personal best” or “world record”.

To skate with Victor-sama was Yuu-chan’s dream, and it was that dream that forced his favorite person to move so far away that he could only see him from Mari-neechan’s phone or laptop screen. He hadn’t seen his Yuu-chan in person in five years. There was no way Vicchan was leaving forever without saying goodbye first.

St. Bernard understood his plight, of course. Very few animal friends went straight into Puppy Heaven when they went to sleep. Whether their deaths were expected or sudden, many of them refused to leave for good until they were sure their best friends were in good hands. So after following the gatekeeper’s instructions to count slowly from ten, Vicchan found himself sitting across from the Kastuki family shrine.

Vicchan encountered his fair share of animal ghosts in his life, but it wasn’t what he expected. It was strange not needing to eat or sleep anymore, but that was fine because no one could see him. Sometimes they felt him passing or heard him barking, but brushed it off saying it was the wind. Humans were weird like that. The people at Yu-topia were talking about his Yuu-chan, about how he seemed so down during his last competition. It was a shame, they said, he’d gotten so far.

The only good thing about it was that Yuu-chan could finally come home.

Yuu-chan’s return took longer than expected. Apparently, he needed to finish school before settling back in Hasetsu. When he finally did come home, Vicchan wished he had been just a little more careful when he was still alive. There was no one to give his fragile boy the hugs he so desperately needed. He went straight to the shrine – his shrine – upon coming home. He’d apologized to him for taking too long to return. Yuu-chan didn’t deserve to feel guilty, he understood what he had to do. It hurt to see that his precious friend wouldn’t let anyone comfort him.

He promised to stay for as long as Yuu-chan needed him, he would stay for years and years until Yuu-chan was old and gray if it meant that Yuu-chan could be happy again.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait that long, because Makkachin was cuddling him to sleep just a few weeks later.

Vicchan stayed longer than most dogs did, but it was worth it to see his boy being cuddled into submission whenever he was lonely. When St. Bernard welcomed him back to Puppy Heaven, he took pride in knowing that while he couldn’t be there for Yuu-chan anymore, his favorite human still had a good dog and a Vicchan by his side.


	3. Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **prompt from viktuurificwriters:** Imagine Yuuri and Viktor dancing. What would they dance to? What style? How much can they communicate with their hands and glances before words slip from their lips and they’re enjoying an evening with the candle lights while Makkachin watches them, tail wagging?
> 
> Everyone’s probably gonna take the fluffy route, so I’ll diverge.

Buying a several gaming systems seemed like a good investment at first. Not only did it make Yuuri so happy that they hadn’t left their bedroom the night he brought them in, but they provided a nice way to get cardio training when the weather wasn’t agreeable. All he had to do was pop in Wii Sports or Just Dance, and they were set.

Victor hadn’t thought it through.  
  
“Yuuri, please,” his pleading punctuated by exhausted heaving, “it’s been three hours. Can’t we… can’t we play something less tiring?”  
  
The love of his live, prince of his heart, and fire of his loins wiped a few beads of sweat from his glorious face before scoffing, “It hasn’t been that long. We can go for a few more songs.”  
  
“Yuuri, I’m dying.”  
  
“Victor. I have to win.”  
  
“Darling, you’ve won every round of Just Dance since we bought the game. I don’t know how much more you can win.”  
  
The terrifying competitive glint in Yuuri’s eyes shone brighter than ever. “But I haven’t beaten him yet.”  
  
“Him?” he squeaked.  
  
“Phichit.”  
  
With a long-suffering groan, Victor recalled just who gave him the idea of buying the games in the first place. “Sweetheart, you’ve beaten Phichit several times in this game.”  
  
His beautiful fiancé’s fists clenched. “The score is 47-43. That lead isn’t good enough.”  
  
“Yuuri…” he whined.  
  
“One more time. We can start of easy with Moves Like Jagger.”  
  
“Makka, save me,” he pleaded.  
  
Instead of helping his poor, dying friend, Makkachin woofed softly before handing Yuuri his controller and nuzzling against his leg.

He should have bought the pole.


	4. Heal

After an agonizing ten minutes, Yuuri could breathe again. When Mari had called him after his free skate, Yuuri knew it wasn’t just to congratulate him on his bronze. (He was currently first on the scoreboard, but neither Chris nor Victor skated yet. As much as he wanted to believe in himself, it was  _ Chris _ and  _ Victor _ .) Rather, she called to tell him that Vicchan was hit by the car the day before. 

_ Yesterday _ .

His dog had been seriously injured and they told him a day after it happened. As angry as he should have been, he understood why they chose to wait.

“I’m so sorry, Yuuri.” Mari breathed, her voice shook of an uncertainty that was far more common in him. “I should’ve been watching him better. I should’ve tightened the leash. I should’ve--”

The guilt of Vicchan potentially dying must have been weighing her down all this time. Yuuri wasn’t the only one who would’ve been crushed if the toy poodle died. He was as much a member of the Katsuki family as Yuuri was.

He sighed. Yuuri now had the unfamiliar role of comforting another human being.

“Mari!” he interjected. His sister silenced immediately, he could practically hear her wince at his tone. Did she really expect him to hold a grudge over this? “It’s okay. He’s okay. This isn’t your fault.”

“God, Yuuri. If Vicchan died--”

“Don’t!” he yelled. He couldn’t think about the what ifs. If the leash had been just a little bit looser. If Vicchan or the car had been any faster. If the driver hadn’t turned around to help. He didn’t want to think about his Vicchan being dead. “I, sorry. It’s just... I just…”

“Yeah.”

“Mhm…”

“The vet said he can come home by the end of the week,” Mari informed him after a few seconds of mutual silence, her tone much lighter. “They’ll be monitoring him after the surgery just in case. Nakamura-sensei said he’ll make a full recovery.”

Yuuri had always been crier. Tears came when he was happy, when he was sad, before, during, and after finals week, and when Victor cut his gorgeous hair five years ago. According to Phichit’s camera roll, he also cried after drink number ten. So it really hadn’t been a surprise to either sibling when the sobbing started.

Mari sighed. “You just had to make it awkward for both of us, didn’t you?”

“It’s fine. No one’s going to be in a creepy hallway when Victor Nikiforov is on the ice,” he responded with a watery chuckle.

She laughed. “Congrats by the way, you huge dork. Don’t get a heart attack standing on the podium next to the life-size version of your poster collection.”

“Shut up!” he squeaked. Rude. She was so rude.

She laughed. “We’ll call you again after your… exhibition?”

“Yeah, that’s it. Talk to you soon.”

Midway through their conversation, Yuuri had sunk to the floor. He was in a great position to keep crying. He took it as a sign that he should. Upon ending the call, he’d hugged his knees closer to his chest.

He sighed for the nth time in fifteen minutes, today had been far too much. His dog has survived a life-threatening accident. He’d gotten bronze in the Grand Prix Final. He finally skated on the same ice as the living legend himself. And he would be standing next to him on a podium in a little while. 

Groaning, he buried his head deeper into his knees. “I can’t believe I missed Victor’s free skate. I’ve been waiting to see him in person all my life.”

“You saw my short though, didn’t you? And there’s always the exhibition skate!” Yuuri jerked upright at the achingly familiar voice.  _ Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. End me right now.  _ Turning, he found himself face to face with the greatest skater to ever exist.

“Hi!”  _ the Victor Nikiforov  _ greeted with an audible wink. “We’ve been looking for you, Yuuri Katsuki.”

Victor smiled at him. Winked at him. Victor said his name. He knew who Yuuri was.

He also said all that out loud. The older skater chuckled, “Of course I know your name, Yuuri. With the way you make music on the ice, I couldn’t imagine not knowing who you are.”

He was dead. He must have died after his free skate because this was heaven. Everything was good with the world, and there was no way this could all be real.

“I can assure you that you’re very much alive, Yuuri.” Oh, he was still thinking out loud. “Yes, yes you are.”

The embarrassment he should have been feeling from the begining of their conversation chose then to finally make itself known. His face heated up immediately, and he was sure that he’d colored a shade of red that had yet to be discovered. So he reacted the only way he knew how. He stood abruptly and ran away.

“Wait. Wait! Yuuri!” the panic in Victor’s voice (and the hand firmly -- desperately -- gripping his arm) made him freeze. Slowly, he turned around to face his long-time idol.

No media smile, no flirty expression. The person in front of him wasn’t five-time gold medalist, most eligible bachelor in Europe, living legend Victor Nikiforov. Instead, he was standing before uncertain, slightly flushed, still hot as hell below Victor. Yuuri was so blessed. So blessed and so confused.

“I,” he began, “I… ah. Do you, um. Commemorative photo? I always take them with people I share podiums with.”

That was a lie. He spend almost half his life following Victor’s public life. He rarely interacted with skaters who weren’t his rinkmates or Christophe Giacometti.

Did Yuuri care? Nope, not even a little. If the universe decided Yuuri could have the best and most confusing day of his life, then who was he to question it?

They ended up taking several commemorative photos. In the empty hallway, on the podium with Chris, at their impromptu celebratory dinner, before the exhibition skate, after the exhibition skate, at the banquet with the other skaters, at the banquet after several celebration drinks that Yuuri couldn’t remember, and at the hotel restaurant the following day as they both recovered from horrible hangovers.

He left Sochi with Victor Nikiforov’s number and a promise to message his idol as soon as he arrived.

Weeks later, with a National gold medal under his belt and cuddling in bed with a still recovering Vicchan, he powered his phone on after two days of black screen death. It took five years for him to visit home, and was too preoccupied with recovering from jet lag and catching up with his family and friends to remember to charge his phone. Thankfully, he sent messages to Celestino, Phichit, and Victor regarding his safe arrival before his phone gave up on him.

Upon entering his passcode, he was immediately assaulted with hundreds of SNS notifications, missed calls, and texts. He opened the most recent one, a string of messages from Phichit.

_ YUUUUUUUUUURI!!! _

_ HOLY FUCK. _

_ BOI. YOU’VE BEEN HOLDING OUT ON ME _

_ THIS IS HUGE _

_ HAVE YOU SEEN INSTA??? TWITTER??? _

_ BOI. _

_ Why aren’t u answering your phone?? _

_ YOU MORON. Your phone died again didn’t it??? _

_ Fucking fuck, Katsuki! _

That didn’t sound very good, but Phichit was known to overreact once in a while. Considering the sheer number of badges on his apps, it couldn’t just be an announcement for a “King and the Skater” triquel or remake. Perhaps the world finally got wind of Yuuri deciding to prepare for Worlds in Japan rather than Detroit? No. There definitely wouldn’t be this much hype about him. But what could it be?

Hang on, he followed an RSS feed on Victor. Could these be about him?

“Yuuri!” his mom called, “We have a guest here for you. Come down and welcome him.”

Oh god.

Being careful not to jostle Vicchan too much, Yuuri raced down the stairs and past the extremely long hallway. After what seemed like an eternity, he came face to face with a poodle. A poodle much larger than the one currently wiggling in his arms. One with lighter-colored fur surrounded by several travel bags. A very familiar dog whose pictures graced the corner where Vicchan’s doggy bed was situated.

She leapt with a cheerful bark and ran straight for Yuuri. Thankfully, the giant poodle slowed down just enough to bump against his legs rather than knock him and Vicchan to the ground. Makkachin sniffed at them both and circled them, barking cheerfully. It would be far more adorable if he wasn’t panicking at the implications of her being at his family’s onsen. In Japan.

On cue, Victor entered the hallway with another large bag in tow. Upon seeing Yuuri, he beamed and abandoned his luggage in favor of launching himself toward him. The hug was so warm, so comfortable, so perfect.

He was still panicking though.

“V-victor,” he stammered, “what are you doing here?”

Releasing Yuuri from his grasp, Victor took a step back and placed both his hands on Yuuri’s stiff shoulders. “Yuuri~” he squealed, “From this moment on, I’m going to be training in Hasetsu with you. Let’s head to Worlds and get on that podium together!”


	5. Beach Day Video

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is dedicated to [cat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dropsofblue), without whom I would be sadder and less inspired.

Sometime in the off-season, hundreds and thousands flock to phichit+chu’s YouTube channel to watch his cute little beach video on loop. It’s the third on his summer series ‘17 playlist, one of many to trend worldwide. It starts as Phichit’s vlogs usually do, with the man himself greeting viewers with his usual cheery singsong. From the shot’s limited angle, we can see him wearing a light hoodie and hear light waves crashing behind him.

“Friendship day at sunny Hasetsu, y’all!” he says with a beaming smile. “Just two pairs of BBFs, the fluffiest poodle, and an angry tag-along!”

He perks at the menacing growl from off-screen, and smirks at the camera. “Let’s say hello!”

The shot blurs for a moment, signaling the switch from the phone’s front camera to its back camera. More bluering follows, along with muted footfalls. The shot stills, and a teenage boy in tiger-striped shorts squats on the sand. The scowl on his face is amplified by the plastic shovel he holds like a butcher knife. Phichit is completely undeterred.

“Say hi to the camera, Yurio!”

“Piss off, asshat!”

“Tough talk from the kid making a sandcastle.”

“Fuck you, it’s a sand fortress!”

It should be noted that the tools Yurio uses for his self-proclaimed badass sand fortress were borrowed from the Nishigori triplets. Each and every plastic piece is decorated with either brightly-colored flowers or figure skate stickers.

A quick squabble with an edgy teenage later, and Phichit is moving to the other members of their party. Chilling under two oversized umbrellas are the Chris and Victor, the latter slathering what appears to be an entire bottle of sunscreen on himself while the former watches on with amusement. Phichit arrives just in time to catch them talking.

“You don’t go to the beach to stay your pasty self,  _ mon amie _ . Unless you plan what I think you’re planning, you don’t need that much on you.”

Victor’s frantic slathering continues. “I’m not pasty, I’m sensitive! It’s not my fault my skin isn’t made for the sun.  _ And I am not pasty _ !”

“Of course you’re not, sweetie,” Chris replies, looking the very opposite of repentant for his previous statement.

Victor’s answering glare lasts two and a half seconds before his attention snaps in the direction of happy barking. His heart-shaped smile is blinding as he coos at his puppy. Then as quick as it came, the expression falls into slack-jawed astonishment. Chris’ accompanying smirk is as lascivious as his both skating programs combined. There is a moment of silence before Phichit makes a noise of understanding, then the camera pans quickly to whatever sight caused such a reaction.

Walking toward them in slow motion – large, flashing captions swear that the clip is not edited in the slightest – and looking every bit like the sex demon his short programs makes him to be, is Yuuri Katsuki. He has clearly just come out of the water, as evidenced by slicked back bangs and droplets falling along his arms and body. An audible gulp followed by twin chuckles follows the delectable sight.

“Victor?” Yuuri says, concern painted on his glistening features – large eyes and pink cheeks enough to give someone whiplash. “Aren’t you going to swim? Makka and I have been waiting.”

Frantic rustling can be heard from behind the camera, and Victor’s back can be seen racing away into the water, a still open bottle of sunscreen left in his wake. Yuuri turns back to his friends, perplexed. A bottle of water appears on screen, along with Chris rolling his eyes.

“Tell him to chug this before anything else happens,” Chris says. Phichit cackles.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


The video goes on the more beach activities, but cuts abruptly sometime before they start a beach volleyball game. The screen sizzles back to life, and shows a much larger view than before.

“Whoop, it works!” Phichit cheers, his whole body now view. “Say hi to my new toy, the ChuDrone! I got it from my folks for getting into the Grand Prix. Now I’ve got a bird’s eye view of all the thirst. My vlogs are upping their game, people.”

“Phcihit-kun,” Yuuri calls, “Can we play now?”

“Yes, yes! I’m good,” Phichit shouts back. He runs toward the others, and the drone follows a few paces behind. “Two on two, right– dibs on Yuuri!”

“I’ve got dibs on Yuuri!’ Victor shouts.

“Bros before hoes, Victor!”

“I can be his bro too!”

In the end, Yuuri gets Christophe as his partner.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


The video cuts to a calmer scene, the drone flitting off to wherever Phichit points it to. Yurio’s sand fortress is coming along nicely, the shells and bunches of seaweed Makkachin occasionally dropping off are a nice touch. Chris relaxes on a chair, his trusty wine glass in one hand and his phone in the other. Yuuri and Victor are… well…

“Are you sure I’m not too heavy?” Yuuri asks, his voice only heard through the drone’s proximity. His flaming cheeks, however, can likely be seen from space. He sits primly on the backs on his heels… on Victor’s back.

His dear fiancé, either unaware or apathetic of their compromising position only laughs. “Yuuri, believe me, if it were up to me, you’d be sitting on my face. This is us compromising in a public place.”

Yuuri makes a choking sound before flailing in place, careful not to hurt the man laying under him. Victor hums in response, “See, this is just what my old bones needed, a good massage.”

“Victor, twenty-eight is hardly old,” Yuuri laughs.

“ _ Old _ !” Victor gasps, “I need constant massaging to survive, Yuuri, and your legs and perfect butt are just what I need.”

“I think I’m supposed to be using my hands for that, Victor, really…”

Victor makes a noncommittal noise before jutting his bottom lip out pitifully. “If you insist, then maybe you can rub a little more sunscreen on me? The sun made me sad and freckly.”

Yuuri smiles on indulgently, “My poor Victor, a victim of the cruel sun.”

The drone pans back a few feet to where the rest of their party look on in varying levels of indulgence and disgust. Yurio storms off looking scandalized as hell, Makkachin trotting along with him. Phichit ceases is patented “OMAI” face to raise a curious eyebrow at Chris, who surprisingly has made no implication to turn Victor and Yuuri’s little flirtfest into something steamier.

‘What? I don’t need to be sexual all the time, this is good too.”


	6. Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor always wondered how people measured love. A delightful podcast that Yuuri had been following for the past eight years likened it to the Scoville Scale. It was as poetic was it was mildly disgusting.

Victor always wondered how people measured love. They used love to measure a year, but what measured love? A delightful podcast that Yuuri had been following for the past eight years likened it to the Scoville Scale. He was sure they meant this as a gag, but they made a good comparison nonetheless. From the mild tang of a green pepper to the ferocity of Carolina Reaper, love was either a fleeting twinge or a force that burnt you from the beginning to its end. Truly poetic as it was mildly disgusting.   
  
But Victor? Well, he thought that love was best measured in questions.   
  
In his first few months in Hasetsu, widely known as the Summer of Mutual Pining, Victor would sneakily inch his hand over Yuuri’s during meals. Just when he was sure he was successful, Yuuri would jump away, only just having noticed Victor’s desperate yearning for his touch.   
  
“You’re...” he would stutter, “you’re holding my hand?”   
  
He wasn’t. It would be anything from an innocent brush of the hand to (if he was lucky) their pinkies intertwining, but he never actually took Yuuri’s hand without warning. As much as Victor hungered for it, he couldn’t until Yuuri was ready.   
  
When Yuuri  _ was _ ready, and Victor heart leaped at the very thought that he could give this beautiful man his heart, all they really did was touch. A peck here, a caress there, a poke to the crown of the head, insistent poking on soft cheeks... several wild make out sessions in Ice Castle’s locker room.   
  
“You’re not holding my hand?” Yuuri asked, a barely concealed whine in his tone. His left hand, the one not busy signing the required documents for his move to Russia, made grabby motions his way.   
  
“I was answering texts, Yuuri,” he justified, “You can survive a few minutes without me, can’t you?”   
  
“No,” he pouted, defiant and playful as ever. “I’m not warm enough. I’m dying. I need to hold your hand.”   
  
He laughed moved by the sentiment. Why people ever thought that Yuuri was a stoic, hardened soul was beyond him. Any dramatic, sappy, lovey dovey gestures of adoration that Victor showered Yuuri with was returned tenfold. Oh, how he loved him.   
  
“I’m sorry, love. Here, let me keep you warm.”   
  
Much later, when they were settled in St. Petersburg — making Victor’s apartment  _ their _ home — and strolling along the shore, trailing an excitedly bouncing Makkachin, a soft warmth would encircle Victor’s hand. He would looked from his cradled hand to the gentle sparkling in Yuuri’s eyes.   
  
Yuuri never asked to take his hand. He didn’t need to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you believe I got this idea from listening to My Brother, My Brother, and Me?
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are appreciated. Hit me up on tumblr if you feel like screaming at/with me (人´ ♡ ` )


	7. Purple: Wonder and Awe

Yuuri was halfway to the exit when he heard the faint swell of strings from the rink speakers. The music was familiar, he thought, a competitor must still be on the ice. With the rink’s lowered security, dimmed lights, and empty lockers, he assumed that the place would be closing in the next hour. Yuuri himself had only been there to retrieve something he left. Who, then, would be skating so late? He got his answer in a swirl of platinum and black, illuminated only by the glowing moon overhead.

Yuuri’s chest rose with a slow, dumbstruck gasp. Everything from the tips of his toes to his unblinking eyes revelled at the sight.

Victor Nikiforov had no business at the Junior Grand Prix Finals; he moved up to the senior division just as Yuuri met the age requirement for juniors. There was no reason for him to be here in Poland. There was no reason for him to be at the rink. But there he was, gliding across the ice with the ease of a bird in flight.

His body was one with the music, as much an instrument as the gentle violins that echoed around them. Graceful arms rose and dropped along with fluid steps, golden blades glinting as they carved intricate swirls in their wake. Long hair, free from its signature ponytail, trailed behind in a curtain of glimmering silver. Yuuri strained his eyes to better see Victor’s; his watery blues were half-lidded and trained to the ground when they weren’t shut altogether. He wondered what could be going through the other skater’s mind to have left such uncertainty on his gentle features.

Yuuri only realized where his feet carried him when his chest and toes met the sturdy rink barriers. Oh, how he yearned to join him. To leap and twirl like the very air carried his feet. To have shining blues focused on him, and only him. To hold his hand and lead him along the frozen surface in a dance that would last a lifetime.

Certainly one day, Yuuri would do just that. But for now, standing at the barriers of a dimly-lit rink in Poland, Yuuri watched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you ever think about that opening scene where a tiny Yuuri is watching teenage Victor skate? Because I have.

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/cROAissant) and [Tumblr](http://croaissant.tumblr.com/). Kudos and comments are much appreciated!


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